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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512266">TGR Secret Santa 2019</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SantaManana/pseuds/SantaManana'>SantaManana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Golden Rose (Interactive Fiction)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff, Gift Fic, Gift Giving, Winter, soft girlfriends....</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2019-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2019-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:21:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512266</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SantaManana/pseuds/SantaManana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While searching in the market for the perfect Boxing Day Gift for Alessa, Bea comes across an unusual choice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alessa (The Golden Rose)/MC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>TGR Secret Santa 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A gift for the lovely Nanda for the TGR Discord's 2019 Xmas event.  Nanda, if you're reading this, sorry...  ^_^;</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>     It is morning in the city.  The sunlight falls down and down, as softly as the newborn snowflakes descending from their clouds.  The sunlight lands onto the thatched rooftops covered with thin patches of snow, slips down to the cobbled streets covered with icy puddles.  Like a gentle hand, it caresses the face of every man, woman, and child walking about; the warmth coaxes redness to their cheeks and joy to rise up from the depths of their souls, to come out of hiding and transform into the lightness in their steps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     It is morning in the city.  And the market is open.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    In particular, the sunlight makes the blonde hair of a certain mercenary shine like spun gold.  Beatrice can't help but smile as she walks among the bustling crowd, a spot of yellow amidst earthy tones of browns, blacks, and dark greens.  She half-listens to the hawkers shouting out the exotic origins of their wares, to the customers haggling back and forth with the merchants for a few coppers off their goods. On days like these, the shopping district is a whirlpool of activity, as if the whole city is out and scurrying about their business before the next cold spell.  She nimbly sidesteps around other shoppers and sometimes a cart here and there, dodging traffic to the rhythmic clangs of the hammer that the blacksmith brings down on his irons.  Her mind is focused on one thing only: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Finding the perfect gift for Alessa.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     But right now, something’s missing.  She turns back her head, craning over her shoulder to look for her companion who was supposed to be by her side.  The throng of people part around her, an endless river of life flowing past a rock in their midst.  Above them, she sees a head of messy dark brown hair, bobbing up and down as its owner tries to maneuver his way around people and the animals underfoot.  The task is difficult for his large frame, for it seems to bump into things at every moment, causing miffed looks from strangers and apologies to spill from the lips of the offender.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Beatrice rolls her eyes.  “Hadrian!” she calls out, standing on her tiptoes and waving her arm up high for good emphasis.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Her companion swivels towards her, relief crossing onto his face. He gently tries to push his way through, offering more apologies and strained smiles at whoever he bumps until he finally stumbles to her with a bashful smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     “The mighty warrior has finally met his match: a crowd of tiny humans,” Beatrice mock-scolds with a teasing smirk.  “Thought you were going to be swallowed up by all those nasty little people, and then who would have my back against these ferocious sellers?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Hadrian winces.  “I hope that no one minds having their foot being stepped on.” He straightens up to look around the section of the market that they’re in, raising his eyebrows at the finery and trinkets laid out on beds of soft velvet and at the shopkeepers warily assessing them as potential customers or thieves.  “So, what exactly are you thinking of for Alessa?  Jewelry?  Another accessory?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     “Oh!” she claps her hands, “what about an </span>
  <em>
    <span>accessorized</span>
  </em>
  <span> knife?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Hadrian furrows his eyebrows.  “Are you sure you have the money for that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     “Er, maybe not an ornate knife then.  Something beautifully gilded but not too flashy. Something that’s sharp and deadly, but definitely not a knife.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>      If anything, Hadrian looks more confused than before. “Are we still talking about a ‘not-knife’ here or Alessa?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>      “Nevermind.”  Beatrice makes her way over to a stall and bends down slightly to inspect the wares, her golden eyes glancing over golden necklaces and rings and other baubles.  The shopkeeper hurries over to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>      “Good day, madam, how may I—,” he drops his placid customer-service smile for a more heartfelt grin.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Beatrice</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Should’ve known a fox like you would show up around this time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     “Hello, Toby,” She cheekily grins back at him, “but sorry to disappoint: there aren’t any foxes here.  After all, I don’t see any ears on my head or a lovely little tail coming from my—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>      Beside her, Hadrian makes a strangled noise, a garbled mix between a loud cough and a reprimand.  Toby laughs at Hadrian’s red-flushed face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>      “Well, if not a fox, then I suppose you are here as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>customer</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not as a trickster to charm me out of my goods with more of your stories.  Anything in particular catches your eye?  I’ve got some new imports from the east if you’d like a look: teardrop earrings with rubies the size of quail’s eggs and some silver armbands with lapis lazuli inlays that were passed down through the daughters of the Batacaria nobles.  I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>personally</span>
  </em>
  <span> vouch for their history.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Beatrice laughs and waves her hands over the display in front of her.  “And I suppose that you can also vouch for these rings as well?  Where are they from, some shipwrecked Spanish galleon carrying the queen’s personal treasures?  A nobleman who tragically had to sell these off to you to have enough money to fuel his gambling habits and discreetly pay off his mistresses?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Toby shrugs.  “Well, can’t blame me for trying?  My wares are like soups: sometimes you need to add, ah, a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>spice</span>
  </em>
  <span> to sell. And trust me, scandals can be the best spices there are.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>      Beatrice smiles and returns back to looking over the jewelry, but for all the shine and glimmer in front of her, nothing grabs her attention longer than two seconds.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     She turns to Hadrian.  “You’ve worked with her longer than I have, is there anything she </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> have already?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Hadrian scratches the back of his head, contemplative.  “I...wouldn’t be too sure.  I’ve seen Alessa with all sorts of jewelry, but it’s not as if she invites me to sit down and look through her collection with her. If I wanted to give something unique...,” he pauses, “...perhaps you can engrave a message on something for her?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Beatrice glances back at Toby, whose smile is a touch </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> gleeful as he prepares to announce the price for such a project.  “Nevermind that,” she says quickly, “I think I’d like something a little less...time-consuming for Toby to prepare.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Toby’s smile morphs into a pout, but like a true businessman, bounces right back.  “Let me pull out some other options for you,” he offers.  As he shifts aside some boxes from underneath the table to pull out another display, something catches Beatrice’s eyes.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Toby</span>
  </em>
  <span>, have you been holding out on me?  What’s that?” she leans over the table and points to a small box full of...glass?  Broken glass, to be more exact, but the pieces are a riot of colors: deep maroons, buttery-soft yellows, pastel blues to pale greys and muted greens.  Their edges are worn smooth, like pebbles in the river that have been washed over and sanded down by the years.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Toby raises an eyebrow but brings the box up for them. “It’s sea-glass,” he explains. “From the beaches.  The saltwater and the waves take off the edges and gives them that ‘frosted’ look.  I’ll admit, I mainly bought it from some beach-combers thinking some of my customers might like the novelty of it, but once some of them found out it was plain glass, sales for them have been deader than carrion on the roadside.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Beatrice picks up a piece of sea-glass, half the size of her thumb.  Holds it up to the light and sees how it filters through the frosted green and blue, so soft yet striking.  It makes her think of the ocean at midday, when the sunlight glints off waters of crystalline blues and greens.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     It reminds her of Alessa’s eyes.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Her mind working furiously, she turns back to Toby with a smile.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     “Say, how long would it take for a custom job?”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Around the time of the boxing day celebration, people gather around the hearth to break bread and spend time with loved ones, away from the ever-present wind and chill from outside their homes.  The Company is no exception to the tradition; after all, Tarek knows the wisdom of allowing his mercenaries a respite in the midst of the cold season, to allow them to enjoy a roaring fire and a hot meal as they wait out the long winter nights.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Laughter and slurred voices ring out in the air as the tipsy drinkers try to keep in tune with the plucking of a lyre; the scent of ale, warm stew, and roast meat seeps out from the cracks of the tightly shut windows.  Everyone else is down in the headquarters’ mess hall, trading stories and coin as they gamble and chat, but that isn’t where Beatrice finds Alessa.  She finds Alessa upstairs instead, in the long hallway with the windows that look out to the town, with only torchlight and a thick, woolen cloak to keep her company. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Beatrice makes her footsteps soft as a whisper as she approaches the other woman currently gazing out the window, her blue eyes trained onto the lights in the distance.  And yet, Alessa turns to her as she comes closer, a small smile gracing her lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     “I came up here to find someone special but it seems I’ve found a treasure instead,” Beatrice jokes as she comes to a stop before Alessa, “May I take her back with me?”  The other woman raises herself off the windowsill she was sitting upon and draws closer, raising an icy hand to caress Beatrice’s face and to tilt it downward for a gentle kiss. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     “Hello, darling one,” she whispers against her lips.  “You must have been drinking for you to drop such pretty lines.”  Alessa pulls away and sits back onto the ledge, tilting her head to the side in an invitation to Beatrice.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     “Trust me, I need no alcohol if I’m only speaking the truth.  It’s not so hard when you’re so very lovely.”  She fails to hold back a grin at the sight of a light blush bathing Alessa’s freckles.  Beatrice shudders slightly as she sits and the cold stone comes in contact with her legs, but the bite of it is lessened as Alessa extends her cloak around her and presses into her side.  The intimate contact they share warms her up from the inside out, heating her better than any fire, better than any drink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     They sit in silence for moments longer, one content to bask in the quiet and the presence of her loved one, the other tumbling sentences around in her head, sounding out the best ways she can bring up her true purpose for coming up here.  Beatrice acquiesces at last, sighing at her own tied tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     “I have something for you,” she murmurs as she pulls out a colorfully wrapped package from her pocket. Her hands hesitate to let go as she hands it off to Alessa, watching her carefully tear off the paper and lifting off the cover of the box.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Curiosity lights in Alessa’s pale blue eyes; it quickly switches into surprise and delight when she lifts the necklace out to inspect it further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     The delicate links of a thin gold chain shine in the torchlight and wrap themselves around and round the centerpiece in a delicate swirl.  It’s the sea-glass shard that Beatrice picked out earlier, but Toby outdid himself, transforming a simple piece of weathered glass into an elegant pendant.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     “How do you think of it?” Beatrice asks even though she already knows the answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>      Alessa continues to study her gift, apparently entranced at how the sea-glass seems to glow with a cool light of its own coming from its very center.  She turns to Beatrice, a brilliant smile filled with joy.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>      “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wonderful</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” is the only word she breathes out before she leans in to kiss Beatrice again.  The warmth they shared earlier now rises up, a delicious heat that shoots up to the top of her head and makes her feel giddy.  Beatrice closes her eyes, basking in the softness of Alessa’s mouth, nearly melting in her affections. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>      They part slowly.  Alessa shyly turns around and sweeps her golden-brown hair off her neck.  Beatrice is pleasantly surprised to see it bare, as if some force conspired to keep it empty, waiting for this exact moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     “Will you help me put it on, darling one?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>      “Is it snowing right now?” Beatrice quips.  “Of course.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>      She takes the necklace from Alessa’s hand.  Carefully puts it around her neck and clicks the clasp into place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>      And for good measure, Beatrice wraps her arms around Alessa’s middle, sharing in her warmth and staying as close to her as she can.  </span>
</p><p> </p>
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